


Arrowhead

by downpourcity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpourcity/pseuds/downpourcity
Summary: [Reignite-verse Mini Continuation]Angela Ziegler fights something from within her, she loses the battle, leaving Widowmaker stuck with whomever is left.





	1. Poison

It was gradual at first. It started with innocent nightmares and then began to grow until it was unbearable. One could not be partially a wraith without consequences. She couldn’t sleep, then she was off alone quite a bit, and other times she could have outbursts of cold fire, her emotions beginning to devour her. Eventually Angela Ziegler was completely unresponsive, emotionless, reserved. It was as if a switch had been turned off. If someone were to come into the room she would appear to not notice, staring at absolutely nothing. Sometimes people caught her whispering alone to herself, and this scared the spider to pieces, not knowing what to do. However, she pretended to ignore it. Maybe by doing that, she could understand what was going on within her head.

Widowmaker awoke with a start, the space next to her empty and cold, for the fifth time this week. She sighed, laying back down, staring to the ceiling. She glanced to her right, where her rifle usually lay, it was gone. Her eyes widened, then narrowed immediately in anger and question. The air became heavy with an emotion, one that was close to sorrow but resembled happiness, very eerie happiness. As if someone had played a trick on her, knowing that it was going to anger her. She slipped out of bed silently, creeping into the outer room. In the center was her gun, safe and sound, however, Angela was nowhere to be found.

She looked around, her ear pricking at the sound of water going through the pipes. As she approached the front of her home, the woman stood in total darkness, washing knives in the sink.

Widow rose a brow, standing far back, not once making a sound nor even a breath.

The other’s red eyes glowed within the darkness, immediately flicking to where she stood. “ _Hello, Widow_.”

Widowmaker stepped back, hearing her shut the water off and place the knives into their holders.

“Why are you up so early?” She questioned, the smile evident in her voice. She sounded innocent enough.

“I could not sleep and was worried about you.” She admitted, speaking up out of the darkness. She flicked on a light, the light not coming on.  
  
“Oh, the power went out in the facility. They’re apparently doing work on the grid.” She walked over to a candle, lighting it with the lighter nearby, her face illuminated.

The whites of her eyes both appeared black, the red of her eyes even more so ominous. She stepped back again, feeling her back hit the wall, a picture being tilted.

“What’s wrong, _mein schatz_?” She walked forward, setting the lighter to the countertop.

“Nothing is the matter. I’m just going to return to bed. There is always a place next to me for you.” Widow attempted a caring tone, a false smile appearing on her lips.  
  
“I will return to bed momentarily, do not worry yourself.” Angela nodded curtly, waving her fingers at Widow.  
  
“Alright.” Widow turned her back, her ear pricking, she swore she could hear footsteps towards her. She looked back, Angela doing more cleaning as if nothing was wrong with doing it in pure darkness. Even Gabriel wasn’t that strange.

When she returned to the room, she shifted into bed, hoping for once that she could sleep soundly without fearing for her life again. About an hour of being awake later, the blonde returned to bed, sliding in next to the spider. Her presence was not a welcome one, it was as if she haunted the room rather than lived in it.

The next morning was even stranger, chairs and tables had been moved around, her gun was nowhere in sight and the woman with blonde hair sat in an armchair, sipping pure black coffee. Angela usually took milk and sugar with it, so seeing her do this was perplexing.

“Good morning, my dear. I apologize if you don’t like the changes, I thought it was time for a change!” She exclaimed happily, sipping from her mug.

Not once did Widow remember Angela getting up out of bed, she only remembered falling asleep next to her. She looked to the clock on the wall, it was sometime afternoon. She wanted to raise a brow, alerting her of her confusion. However, she chose not to, because showing any emotion may have lead the woman in question to lash out. The clock in their room had been set back multiple hours to make Widowmaker believe time had passed differently.

“Good morning, mon amour.” She played along, fixing a smile to her lips, masking all the sudden fear that she felt. “I enjoy changes.”  
  
“Lovely. Then I will have to do this more often.” She replied, taking another elongated and unnatural sip as if she took no liquid from the cup at all, merely pretended to. She set the mug down, looking Widow in the eyes directly.

“Oui.” She took the moment to look around, in case she had to leave in a hurry. Her fight or flight instinct was screaming at her to run, but she didn’t know why. The woman she loved was just slightly unsound, but not enough that she would be hurt.

“Come here, _libeling.”_ She beckoned her, smiling from ear to ear.

Widow obeyed, not thinking twice this time. She had to trust her partner. She couldn’t be afraid of this. She had to have faith, it was what she was working on. _To trust._ The blonde scoot over just enough, Widow crammed next to her, wrapping her arm around her. They shared a moment, a quiet but lovely moment. The fear remained, she was perplexed. _Why?_ Just as she relaxed she felt a prick to her neck.  
  
“It will only hurt for a moment, my dearest spider. I promise.” Her voice began to fade out into the distance, her head buzzing into confusion, fight, she wanted to fight. The spider had been caught in a web made by another spider, an unsuspecting spider.

Time, what was time? She was stuck in darkness; all she could feel was things being tethered to her. Pokes, prods, stabs. She couldn’t find the ability to breathe full breaths, or breathe in general. She felt more things until nothingness again, she fell into another black hole of numbness. She felt something being strapped to her face, then she was unable to tell what was happening anymore. Her vision began to come back, white light blinding her, she gasped, unable to collect herself, something was on her face, something tying the rest of her down. She tried to move her arms, but they were unresponsive. She felt like she was drowning and unable to swim. She remembered the times when they reprogrammed her, forcing her into water so she couldn’t be as able to move when they destroyed her mind. Except this time, she was stuck in her own body.

Condensation blocked her vision momentarily, then it was gone. She squinted, the light blurring everything together. Before she knew it she was out again. She felt the force of something around her cheek and chin, a hand perhaps? Her skin was most obviously not exposed anymore so it was hard to put the pieces together. She felt the hand grow gentle, almost stroking her _like an animal_. She opened her eyes again, it was dark this time, someone’s arms were around her, she heard soft cooing but it was hard to make out over her own panicked breaths.

The voice’s tone was familiar but colder than she had remembered. She shivered, she was starting to feel again. She struggled to grasp onto that feeling, trying to pick away at the open crack in the wall. Why had she been drugged by her in the first place? The feeling of betrayal was sour on her tongue. Why would the woman she loved so much, admired so much, do this to her? She had been stuck in a pool of her own numbness for the longest time, never once seeing a flick of light guiding her out when she needed it the most. She wondered if anyone else knew about what Angela was doing to her, she wondered _if it even was Angela anymore._ Time was fleeting, she felt nothing again, her mind numbing and her vision dimming into blackness, she was launched back to drown in a sea of drugs.


	2. Burgundy

This time when she awoke she could hear the voice more clearly, her breaths however, were a lot more shallow. _That scared her._

“My spider, oh how I adore you. **_Your behavior is so good. I am proud of you_**.”

Widow cringed, her vision returning almost fully, her brain returning to normal for that moment, only slightly muddled. The woman usually with blonde hair stood before her, sporting almost entirely raven black hair, her face even more cracked than before. She grinned abnormally, where were they? She looked around, noticing the talon logo on the wall, an executive chair and a large desk. They were in the late third director’s office. Orange light flooded into the room, coming out from a set of windows and French doors near the edge of the room. She could barely move her arms, but she could just enough, the doctor sat in her lap, and she pretended to stick her arms around her as if she were still extremely out of it.

“Angela” cringed, but then chuckled darkly. “ _This is nice_.”

Widowmaker’s hands moved to her neck suddenly, grabbing onto it with all of her might, which was next to nothing. She heard Angela’s laughter.  
  
“ ** _It’s not time yet.”_**

Within the moment she felt herself growing woozy again, another prick to her side. Before she had been entirely out she could start to feel the pain of all that Angela had done to her. Her sides were burning, her ankles and arms were burning and now she was trapped inside of herself again. She started to numb away, her breaths the only she heard again. Hearing herself breathe was so claustrophobic, if she ever got out of this she’d have to live somewhere in a big open area. **_Focus on that, Widowmaker_** _._ She heard a voice in her head, a very familiar voice, a man’s voice. Her heart broke, she could feel sadness creeping up from the numbness. Reality was starting to knock on her door, either that or she was going insane.

She did as she was told, finding it the only foothold in the darkness. A memory entered her head, she couldn’t make out faces, only voices.

“It’s alright, dearest. Just a little further. No, no don’t worry about it, I’ll get it cleaned in the morning, it’s important we time this just right.”  
  
She felt a hand grab hers pulling her up a slope, to the top of a hill, with a large clearing. The stars shone brightly above, the Milky Way obvious to the human eye. Far below a city lit up the world. They were so far above that they were alone, and isolated from the business below. It was as if the city didn’t bother them if they didn’t bother it.

She felt lips touch her cheek, something scruffy, and heard the voice again.

**_Focus on that, my Widowmaker._ **

She focused with all of her might, grabbing onto it with her hands, her knuckles going white, her brain screaming out to her to stop. She ignored it, thinking about that memory, thinking about that freedom.

The faces became clearer, the voices clearer.  
  
“Watch your step.” She felt herself being lifted up onto a rock by a hand.

“Isn’t that something else?”  
  
The faces were pristine now, she felt free, she felt alive, she felt something other than panic and fear and numbness.  
  
A man stood before her, blue eyes, scruff on his cheeks, creases in his forehead and under his brilliant eyes, dark brown hair, his glasses reflecting the stars so perfectly, but she was more concerned about him. She couldn’t look away.

He grabbed her hands, taking her in a circle, dancing in the moonlight, her feet light again, her legs springy and in step. They danced to an imaginary tune, a smile appearing on her lips. A true smile. She could feel the warmth radiating off of it. She could feel his warmth, she felt safe.

Her eyes flicked open, she could move, it was night. She quietly sat up, noticing the doctor was sitting opposite to her, sleeping. She moved up her sluggish arms, ripping the mask from her face, the cold air hitting her face for the first time in a while and stunning her. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, her lips twitching up and down.

**_Do not stay in one place, my spider. Quickly._ **

Even if she was losing her mind, she at least had some insane form of peace. She stood, her legs wobbling. Was this all a setup? To see what she’d do? _She knew it was._ Instead of walking to the door to escape, she’d probably get partially down the hall and then be sedated again, she went straight for Angela or whoever she was now. She grabbed her shoulders, holding her down, bearing her teeth. The woman awoke with a start.

“Widowmaker?” She asked in a stunned tone, her eyes huge. “How did you get out?”  
  
“It seems you have miscalculated.” Her throat grabbed, dry, unused. She grabbed her shoulders tighter, the strength barely returning enough to keep her down, she moved forward, snatching her wrists.  
  
“What are you doing? I’ve been nothing but kind to you!” She rose her voice, the red in her eyes seeming to darken.

“You aren’t my Angela.” She pulled her up, shaking weakly, holding onto her like a cat’s claws to a screen door. “You will never be my Angela.”

The woman turned to smoke in her grip, floating away behind, she turned around immediately, another needle, another _damn_ needle. Did she keep a supply in her pockets?

“My, you’ve become quite the troublemaker.” She smirked, coming at her, _no_. She grabbed her hand, twisting it towards her, the woman resisted, squirming free.

She moved forward towards the tripping doctor, grabbing her hand again. “Who are you?” She asked in a breathless tone, holding onto her harder.  
  
“Angela.” She hissed, bringing herself up again, this time she was kicked down. She got back up, struggling with her. The spider pushed her back towards the doors, forcing one open, she kept pushing until they were on the balcony.

“ **You are not Angela Ziegler**.”

 She pushed again, letting go when she felt her slip over the edge.


	3. Harmony

Her limp body struggled into smoke, falling from the height that she was, she wouldn’t make it when she hit the bottom. For a moment Widowmaker watched, almost gleefully, waiting to hear the thud, however it never came. She heard a softened thud, but not hard enough to cause death. She looked over the side of the balcony’s edge, the doctor’s arms and legs splayed out around her. _She was still alive._ The sniper ran out of the room, hearing cries coming from below, they weren’t distorted like before. Half of her was terrified of the woman and the other part wanted her dead.

When she reached the bottom she noticed the blood coming from her, her stomach turning. She collapsed, suddenly weakened by the sight of it. She used to be able to tolerate gore, so it was utterly confusing as to why she couldn’t take it. She forced herself forward, the woman sobbing of all things. Confusion washed over her, she looked at her, her eyes widened, lacking the darkness they once did. She stopped sobbing, coughing, she was coughing now. The spider hung over her now, glaring her in the eyes. She moved her arm back, her fist ready to pound her the remaining way to death’s door. She struck downward, someone’s hand blocking her, another grabbing her arm. Sombra.

Widow’s eyes flicked to the hacker’s face, venom seething from every portion of her body. She lunged at her now, the doctor’s voice hoarse beneath them. Her arm was caught yet again, Reaper. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes, she began shaking, and then soon enough she was floored. Her body screamed out in pain and agony of all of the mistreatment, her ears rang, her lips quivered, she couldn’t interpret anything as well as she used to. She was broken. The woman she learned to trust so well, had destroyed her. Shattered her.

Men in talon guard uniforms came with a stretcher, women in crisp white lab coats appeared. Widow could not understand time, nor could she interpret how they got there so quickly. She looked up at them, silently, watching as they took the doctor away.

“ ** _YOU DID THIS TO ME!”_** She screamed after her, not hearing her own voice, only feeling the vibration.

The man in the mask and his friend grabbed her by the arms, her yelling ceased. She fell limp in their grasp.

They said time would give chance for healing, that ill feelings would cease to be or that those feelings would become something different. But those ill feelings grew until they overwhelmed her. She was constantly trapped within her own head, a voice telling her how better it would have been if she hadn’t broken free. Regret was what she was feeling, even though it was incredibly stupid to think that way. She had been a doll for who knows long, being fed once in a while through a tube, being washed, nurtured, and “loved.”

The sniper would barely talk, sitting alone for hours on end, wasting her day away with thinking and only thinking, she would only notice the time when her stomach would tell her to eat. For months she sat in silence, her yellow eyes paranoid, afraid she’d feel a prick into her skin again from behind. Even after the doctors had released her, she had still woke to sounds of her panic breaths, grabbing at her face, realizing she wasn’t restrained or bound to a mask. Her partner, no, _friend_ , would sit by her until she fell asleep, watching her to make sure she was alright. At times she found the hacker lying beside her, comforting her until she could finally close her eyes.

Fear would grab her by the throat and hold her by puppet strings, what Angela had done to her made reprogramming seem tame. People would tell her to face her, but all she could do was hide from her, afraid to look into her eyes and see the lack of the woman she had loved and invested time into. She was afraid, so deathly afraid.

Widowmaker slipped out in the night from the facility, blindsiding her friends and the one woman she didn’t dare see. She walked for hours, and hours and hours, holding her sniper behind her back, going who knows where. The terrain grew snowy and brutal; she couldn’t feel the chill but her body wasn’t taking it well. She clutched onto her coat, shielding her face from another blast of snow mixed wind. She put her visor down, no heating readings visible anywhere nearby. She flipped it up, continuing. The snow became thicker and thicker, her legs became colder, she had been ill prepared.

Her ankle twisted, bringing her entire body down with it, including her rifle. She clumsily knocked herself out in the snow. The sniper hadn’t been tempering her body as often. When she awoke she heard the sound of wind through a wooden framed building, a pair of doors blew in the breeze, a fire crackled nearby, a man sat with his back to her, stirring something in a pot and then directly to the side of her was an omnic meditating. She opened her eyes, her sniper gone, her helm gone. She looked around quietly, noticing it in a neat stack near the set of doors along with her jacket.  
  
“Ah, you have finally awoken.” Came a voice, _the meditating omnic_. “My student, is the broth almost finished heating?”  
  
“Yes, master.” He scooped some into a wooden bowl, turning around to meet the eyes of the woman with yellow eyes.  
  
“Here you are, Ms. Lacroix. It is all I could do for you.” He smiled sadly, bowing his head to her, holding it out to her humbly.  
  
“If you know who I am then why have you…” She began, sitting up in fear and confusion.  
  
“Forgiveness is the first step to freeing yourself.” The omnic began, levitating over to her side. “Even though you have created discourse by destroying the life of my brother, there is always light to counterbalance the dark.”

“Tekhartha Zenyatta.” Widowmaker murmured, bowing her head, her eyes falling to the ground.

“Please.” The cyborg offered again, his gaze filled with care and deep sadness.

She took it hesitantly, taking the broth to her lips graciously. “Merci Beaucoup.” She murmured, sipping almost violently.

“I am glad we were not at our usual place or our paths would not cross.” Zenyatta began, sitting on the ground, he bowed his head. “Destiny has drawn me to you. I am humbled and honored to help you because I know that is what you were searching for.”  
  
“Would you like some more?” The man asked, watching as the sniper nodded vigorously. He took the bowl, refilling it and then handing it back to her.

“I suppose if it weren’t for you I would be dead.” She sighed, looking down at the reflection of herself in the broth’s surface. She looked so tired and distressed, it scared her.

“Genji found you face down in a slowly refilling hole. Your abnormal body temperature has saved you.”

“I do not know how to repay you.” She blurt out, looking away from both of them.

“You do not have to repay me, you only have to do one simple thing for me.” He answered, lifting his hand.  
  
“What would that be?” She asked, looking up at him.  
  
“ ** _Will you meditate with us and find a different path to walk_?** ”


	4. Awaken

Silence, it annoyed her at first. Then it began to pull at her, leading her to agony. Zenyatta had said this would be the first steps to healing fully.

She would sit in silence and become unable to focus, trying desperately to do something other than think. Thinking only unlocked memories that she hadn’t wanted to awake.

Gerard. His death. Deaths of multiple others. People fading away. Angela.

Widow couldn’t sleep at night; she couldn’t keep herself from thinking endless thoughts of what she could have done.

Hindsight is 20/20.

She could hear his cries of fear as she took a knife to him. She remembered the taste of blood on her lips and the thrill she felt, oh how inhuman. She grew afraid of herself, wishing away all that she had done, wishing that she had fought harder.

She didn’t want to believe that hurting would help her become whole again, that feeling so in despair would fix her. Each day became worse and worse until she realized, for the first time in a long time, that she was _feeling_ again. That feeling this pain led her to truly feeling emotions. Memories piled up, things appeared in her dreams, she began sleeping, eating, living, breathing.   
  
Only time healed one’s heart fully. Only time could change someone from hating and hurting to loving and forgiving.

“My dear student, do you feel anything other than pain today?” He asked, breaking her from her concentration.   
  
She opened an eye, taking a deep breath in and then releasing one. “I feel… _happiness_.” She quietly answered, opening her other eye. Both carried a warmer glow, one of which didn’t hold so much frozen fear.

“That is good.” He bowed his head, then looked back up at her. “You seem to be close to ready to return to her. Your love.”

“I forgive her. She wasn’t in the right mind. She was hurting, and she was under the control of something other than herself.” She murmured, biting her lip subtly.   
  
“That is very good to hear, Ms. Lacroix. If you are ready, we will accompany you back. Taking a journey with friends must end with friends, I as well as Genji are here for you.”

“I am honored to think you consider me a friend.” Her voice was lined with surprise.

“You have grown so quickly. I admire your willingness to try and your passion for the things you hold dear.” He shifted carefully, levitating upward.

“I’m ready.” She stood up with care, straightening her back, her long hair cascading down her back in an organized stream.

“Then we will leave in the morning. Get some rest, you will need it.”

She walked out of the small room and into the courtyard, snow cascaded downward and onto her bare arms. She shivered lightly, her breath visible in the air. Widow could feel the cold, she could feel the crispness of the world around her. A smile embraced her lips, leaving her appreciating the darkening world.

The sniper opened the door to the shared sleeping quarters, then closed it softly, the male with green eyes looked up at her.

“Amelie, what did he say? I hope you don’t mind me asking.” Genji’s face grew worried.

“He told me that I was ready. I am honestly not so sure.” She rubbed at her arm, sitting down.

“Why do you say that?” He sipped from a small beige mug. “Is it that you are ready but afraid that she is not?”

“I- “She paused, gulping visibly. “Yes.”

“You won’t know until you approach her.”

That evening the trio of people left the safety of their solitude, trudging through the rather dangerous snow drifts and into the beyond. Widow had never come to understand the distance she was carried and had walked until this very moment. As she walked she contemplated many things that involved the one she loved, and those she had lost along the way.

Her mind drifted as the snow did, in a swift and steady path, moving as its counterpart, the ocean. Her eyelashes fluttered gently against her blue skin, her lips twitching into a thin lined smirk, memories clutched to her legs and froze her insides.

She imagined a ballerina dancing through the snow they walked, being careful to mind her ankles and limbs as wholes. She imagined a small child in a town cut through by a lake and a river, picking flowers aimlessly as if the life around her was simplistic and to be lived quietly.

The imagination was a powerful beast, pulling her memories from it was even harder. Yes, she was much more stable within her brain, however still feeble.

Her brain began opening up like a pop-up book. Several memories painful and several hard to make out. However, this one shown hardest.

A small child ran through a field of flowers, several in her hands and hair and behind her ears. She giggled loudly, running from an unknown pursuer. However, now it made sense. The girl merely ran from her own shadow in jest and happiness and no care whatsoever in the world around her.

The girl gawked as she passed by store windows, the canal, boats, people on bicycles, and those that she called friends. The butterflies, the fish, the birds and everything in between. She did not speak, merely smiled and laughed and ran into the arms of a man with a kind and old face.   
  
Another girl ran into his arms alongside her, both clutching him with obscene amounts of strength, throwing all of the love they knew how to throw in.

Time had passed oddly in this memory, soon she saw a teenager distraught at a desk, writing onto a piece of old parchment paper with a quill of all things. She questioned why this woman would do this, and why so sadly? Screams of fear echoed outside as the omnic crisis drew to a shrill end. She shivered visibly, setting the quill down into the ink well, then up and then down again.

Next she saw the same woman again, older, dancing upon a stage, people cheering. The same middle-aged man, now older, handed the woman a rose wrapped in a white piece of ribbon. She took it. The next part of this strange string of memories that played like a broken film, led to her seeing the man she once poured her heart into. The man stood with a rose in his hands, the other older man next to him holding one as well. She felt a kiss to her cheek and an exclamation of happiness that she couldn’t quite make out.

Soon she snapped out of it, gazing forward into the windy and snowy dawn. Had she really walked so far as to see the sun rise again after it had fallen so long ago? The mind was truly a magnificent and yet so terrifying place. Widow fell into a rhythmic balance in her steps with the rest of those with her. The split between snow and craggy rock and plains was abrupt but welcomed by all. She shivered absently, just as the teenager had, just as the ballerina on stage had.

Amelie had been such a unique figure, a feeling of sadness and emptiness filled her gut. In that moment, and only that moment she made the biggest realization of all. Amelie wasn’t dead, no, she lived on, she walked forward at this very moment, awakening from a slumber long overdue done. Her eyes caught the sunlight radiating behind them. Tears welled in the corners and the sound of the ominic monk’s knowing laughter made her smile uncontrollably.


	5. Moonlight

Different mindsets always had a funny way of making something look one way or another. A situation could appear like a valley of flowers to one, and a unmovable object to another. She wasn't particularly sure where her mind was.

As the monk and cyborg ninja walked off away from her, telling her their farewells, she rounded the bend and approached the large base of operations. A determined look crossed her features. However all she felt was sickness. Warily, she walked up to the two entrance doors, sliding her card in. When the door opened she was greeted with a bust of light.

She opened her eyes, hearing the rush of the ocean and the rain hit a window. A woman with blue eyes sat next to her, staring at her warily. She blinked awake, rising from a cocoon of blankets.

"My dear, you slept through the day." Angela carefully soothed her hair back, kissing her forehead.

Widow noticed no dark marks on her face or even a small resemblance to Reyes.

"What... what time is it?" She asked, throat dry.

"It's nearly sunrise." She whispered, sitting up over her.

"What happened?" She questioned, her head throbbing gently.

"You welcomed me here after I was fixed up."

Those words rattled off of her head in waves. She had just experienced the cliché dream scenario like in the movies. However, it was not cliche at all in this instance, no. Her dream had been a complicated web of memories, piecing themselves together to make sense to her.

Angela Ziegler being warped into a monster after being saved from a ditch. That was her brain reminding her of Gabriel in the ruins of the old watchpoint, and how he broke down upon seeing it. Talon picked up the pieces and broke him more afterward to insure that violence was "put to good use."

Angela was an angel to her, not something that could be so easily corrupted. Her worst fear lay within her trust issues. The sniper had childishly, in her mind, began to trust the doctor. It had seemed that all she had begun to trust would break it, leaving her alone again, in a ditch of their making, and then blaming her for digging it.

She began recalling the moments where she was a human doll, a singular shriveled tear trailing down her cheek. Talon had done that to her after she had disobeyed orders. They gave her a handler and forced her to comply through many means. Eventually they set her free and told her to never talk about it.

But what of her encounter with the omnic or his student?

Her solid thoughts were hushed when the blonde carefully kissed her lips.

Zenyatta and Genji?

She kissed back, pulling her closer, just to know that this was real. She felt Angela's cheeks burn against her face. She pulled back.

Breathlessly she spoke, "Are you real?"

The doctor giggled quietly, smiling from ear to ear at that question. Her answer was a firm kiss to the other's lips and then her nose. "I don't know, spider, am I real?"

Zenyatta and Genji?

Her brain wouldn't stop repeating these names, her voice escaped from her mouth, "Zenyatta and Genji." She paused, the doctor growing interested.

"What about?" She leaned to her neck, kissing it gently.

A file. She now remembered a file she pulled up from their internal databases. A monk and a ninja, illegally (to Talon) reforming any and all agents who defected. She remembered how she had felt hope after learning of this. That she'd have a future elsewhere and not die an operative.  
  
Far away she could hear the faintness of a song playing. A memory rushed to her head. The song grew louder, her kisses continued all over her. She saw a woman in a white dress twirling in a small living room, when she finished another person clapped. The song increased in volume, she fought it. The woman on the sofa was Angela, the dancer, Amélie. Her. She let the song consume her.

Clair de lune.

Memories were a strange thing. They could either make someone fondly look back on life, or go incredibly mad, or even both. Even a spider could be caught in a web of her own making. It just took a dance to become unstuck. Sometimes it even took a single person to knock them free. The mind is a funny thing, so fragile yet so sound and yet so incredibly insane.

Even a cacophony of sounds could make one remember something. Make someone pinpoint it, have the arrow hit the mark. In the end, life was a vinyl record. It could played, paused, run on its own, break, bend, age and even be replaced with a new one.

 


End file.
